


A Box of Suicidal Poems

by evilstheater



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Poetry, poetry collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilstheater/pseuds/evilstheater
Summary: A poem collection I decided to upload, containing poems from as early as 2017 to the current day. Each poem is separated by chapter, to replicate it being in actual pages.Massive warning for: suicidal content, vent poems, depressing topics, self harm, basically anything I can't warn in the regular warnings with the vague graphic violence warning.Poems are presented as is, without any editing.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. who am i (2020)

i wonder about all the drawings i did in craft stores  
scribbles, words, all in sharpie  
i wonder if someone sees them and they think about me

i find pen writings in my high school textbook  
i wonder how old they are  
i wonder how they are now  
i hope they’re well

i look at old forum boards  
i look at my own posts  
i wonder about the little boy alive in other’s brains  
i wonder how that version of me is doing

i add another song to my playlist  
i wonder once i die if someone will listen  
i ponder if they might fall in love with me  
i wonder who i’ll be in their mind

i message another person online  
i think about how i see them  
i think about who they actually are  
i wonder who i am in their mind

what is death?  
do we truly die?  
who am i?

there’s so many versions of “me”  
am i somebody’s hero?  
antagonist?  
is there such thing as “myself”?  
my body, is it actually mine?

when do i truly die?  
when do i leave everyone’s memories?  
will there ever be a trace of me?  
someone a century from now  
who do they fall in love with?


	2. static (2020)

static  
static  
it’s all static  
i don’t want to make myself cutesy  
i don’t want to cover these feelings up in metaphors

will people listen if i make my depression pretty?  
will people listen if i try to be “deep”?  
when they see the blood from my thighs  
and my chest  
will they think i’m disgusting?  
when my room is a disorganized mess  
will they think i’m disgusting?  
when i fill the static up with smoking and drinking  
will they think i’m pathetic?

i can’t be what anyone wants me to be  
i can’t be what i want to be  
i don’t know what anyone wants from me

i’m sorry i can’t be tragically beautiful  
just make sure to not cry too hard at my grave


	3. worm (2020)

abuse is so fucking funny  
i’ve moved away from them  
thousands of miles, in fact  
sim cards? gone  
phone numbers? blocked  
everything? deleted  
but i feel captive still

they’re like ghosts  
that won’t stop haunting my god damn brain  
ill never see them again  
but somehow that makes me want to die

another day another shot  
another day another drink  
maybe if i drink enough i wont think anymore  
and thats fine i think  
death is a better fate!

but i don’t know  
i’m a worm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: i just moved thousands of miles away from my parents which is why im not uploading anymore.  
> yes im safe  
> things are really shaky right now  
> i know no one really anticipates reading these  
> but i like writing them


	4. writing (2020)

sometimes i feel like these nonsensical poems are worth nothing  
after all, no one appreciates writing as much as they should  
but writing is everywhere  
it’s what you’re reading right now  
it’s the sweet words your lover says  
writing looks like hardworking journalists  
and young teens stuck in writer’s block  
and depressed adults struggling to get  
a single  
word  
down

writing looks like lgbt activism  
and writing looks like a war  
and yet a peaceful field  
and yes, i ramble on  
but god i’d rather speak for years  
then never say a fucking word

because i know that i may never be a bestseller  
i’m happy  
and i’d rather scream at the top of my lungs  
than never write these shitty poems  
sure, they don’t rhyme  
and sure, they’re abstract  
but life never makes sense  
so neither should i


	5. everything is alright (2020)

self care can come in many forms  
like bubble baths  
or walks  
or tea  
or shopping  
but i can’t find myself relating to any of it  
because i have never felt more alive  
than at 4am

screaming song lyrics at the top of my lungs  
nose bloody, a bruised face  
i have never felt more awake in leather  
protecting my friends  
with the spirit of punk my heart

sometimes self care is aching fists  
and lungs with no air  
sometimes self care is rough  
and god  
i’ve never felt  
more   
fucking  
alive


	6. vacuum of space (2020)

when the boy watched the earth from the moon,  
he realized that he was all alone

when the boy stared up at the stars,  
he realized he was just a small dot in life

when the boy looked at the black, empty space,  
he realized that in a century he would not be remembered

when the boy sat down, and made constellations,  
he realized that the universe was what he made up in his head

when the boy dwelled on his thoughts,  
he realized he had no way to prove what he was feeling as real

when the boy held the gun to his head,  
he realized he couldn’t rationalize what death is

for he had known that he was just a speck of sand  
in the sea of the universe  
that his true self was nothing more than self-imposed memories  
he couldn’t prove were real or fake  
and that he could have been a piece of code  
or just useless atoms

so when the boy pulled the trigger,  
he had no one to tell that the darkness he saw in space

was like the darkness of the afterlife


	7. problem (2020)

when i talk to you i’m a problem  
when i breathe i’m a problem  
when i exist i’m a problem  
when i cry i’m a problem  
when i’m not good enough i’m a problem  
when my room is too messy i’m a problem  
when i don’t look at you right i’m a problem  
when i drop out i’m a problem  
when my grades drop i’m a problem  
when i want help i’m a problem  
when i can’t speak i’m a problem  
when i can’t eat i’m a problem  
when i kiss the barrel of your shotgun i’m a problem  
when my blood spatters on the wall i’m a problem  
when you need to clean it up i’m a problem  
when you need to call 911 i’m a problem  
when you realize i’m gone i’m a problem  
and when my brain is splattered everywhere  
and my skull is in fragments  
and my skin is fried  
who’s problem am i now?


	9. don't you think (2020)

don’t you think it’s funny that poetry comes in many forms?  
so many people calling theirs fake  
but don’t you think all art is beautiful?  
why must everything be a masterpiece?  
don’t you think there’s value in everything?  
why must we be graded by how moving everything is?  
i’m tired of being in the dark  
i want to be in the light  
but being in the light is too much to ask for  
so may i ask everyone to love each other instead?  
is it too much to ask for?  
don’t you think so?


	9. problem (2020)

it’s easy to tell a joke  
and it’s easy for people to laugh  
it’s easy to make everyone smile  
and it’s easy to make people happy

it’s easy to cut your wrists  
and it’s easy to drink a beer  
it’s easy to take a smoke break  
and it’s easy to be lost completely

it’s easy to be the butt of your own joke  
and it’s easy for everyone to ignore that  
it’s easy to joke about your life  
and it’s easy to make it not noticeable

it’s easy to tie the rope  
and it’s easy to put it on your neck  
it’s easy to fall down  
and it’s easy to die

it’s easy to cry when he does  
and it’s easy to mourn him  
it’s easy to pretend nothing happened  
and it’s easy to ignore all the signs

but when he handed you all of them  
no one did anything


	10. metaphors (2019)

how does one express how they feel in metaphors?  
perhaps if i was more solemn, i’d know  
but the rage that fuels my mind covers it up  
i don’t want my depression to look pretty  
i don’t want to cover it up  
i’m tired of covering it behind loose meanings

because in reality?  
being abstract gets you nowhere  
behind each poem is a cut on my thigh  
or my wrist  
or my stomach  
behind all the blood that falls is a lust for death  
for each poem i write there’s 3 suicide notes backing it  
one hour is another line added to my will  
and i don’t even know how to fucking write one

i can’t cover up my thoughts all cutesy any more  
in my brain it’s nothing but black inky scribbles  
and when i run out of ink  
i hope i drop dead


	11. 96019 (2019)

they’re like a ball on a chain, the ball growing heavier by the day  
their words are like bullets, hitting you with a storm of them  
and yet when people ask you to describe how you feel  
and you’ve felt every single fucking emotion  
you say nothing.

they’re like a comic villain, but there’s no superhero  
you’re the damsel in distress but no one is coming  
and when you scream out in pain they only hit harder  
and you wonder why you even bother waking up anymore  
you say nothing.

they’re like a death trap, testing you for your patience  
and sometimes you just want to indulge  
because they’ve warped your mind so bad  
and you wonder why you haven’t died yet  
you say nothing.

they’re like the guards of a prison cell  
and you’re the prisoner for life  
and you’ve been put in jail for a crime you didn’t commit  
and you wonder why they haven’t poisoned you  
you say nothing.

and now your wings are about to spread free  
but yet the only thing you can think is dread  
because after all they’re drowning you  
and you wonder if your life matters at all  
you say nothing.

a free bird you are, or soon to be  
but the wound they left on your body will stay there  
no matter how fast and far you’ll fly  
and you wonder if they’ll kill you from afar  
you cry, for once.


	12. no title (2019)

i’ve tried to express how i feel but all i hear is white noise  
i’ve tried living day to day but now i want to die  
i’ve tried to tell them how i feel and i get told i’m weak  
sometimes i wonder how the rope would feel around my neck  
or the pills in my mouth  
or the gun to my head  
it would clearly end all of my problems, wouldn’t it?

but instead i sit in the shower with slit wrists  
and i cry, and i cry, and i cry  
because this isn’t me anymore!  
but how can i call that me when i don’t know i?  
why can’t i give myself that final push  
and go into the long sleep?

if i tried to express how i feel, no one would understand  
if i tried to draw how i feel, it would be black scribbles  
if my parents knew how i felt, they’d encourage me  
not to seek help, no  
but they’d give me a loaded gun and tell me to shoot

i want to run away  
i want to know if there’s life beyond here  
but i can barely stand on my own and i want to be free  
i’m a burden to society, and to myself, and to everyone  
so why don’t i just suck it the fuck up?

but here i am instead  
tears coming from my eyes  
suicide note ready for whenever  
but yet i don’t use it  
and i don’t know why

my will to live is gone but my will to die isn’t enough  
i’m sitting in my own prison of thoughts  
i just want to feel loved again  
i just want to be okay again  
i don’t want to hurt myself anymore  
i just want to be okay

i’ve filled another paper up with nonsense  
and normally i would end it optimistically  
but i can’t anymore  
i want to be okay.  
i want to be okay.  
i don’t want to die  
but i don’t want to live  
i want to lay in nothingness.  
i want to be okay.


	13. afraid (2019)

its easy to stare at a blank page  
but harder to put the words upon it  
its easy to be alive  
but harder to keep living  
its easy to walk away from the problem  
but harder to keep running  
its easy to keep swimming  
but harder to stay afloat  
its easy to pull the trigger  
but harder to stay in eternal sleep  
its easy to accept nothingness   
but harder to remain afraid of it  
but i’m not.


	14. broken (2019)

a broken lullaby trails through the wind,  
whispering its sorrowful melody  
notes broken, pauses written  
unwound from the cruelty of kindness  
in the snow it finds a place to rest  
covered in ice, frozen by the air  
playing until the harmony breaks  
and it slips into its final rest


	15. it wasn't the place (2018)

you were only 8 when you died  
with a brief touch in the alleyways  
“(REDACTED) wasn’t the place for you,” they said  
with your cries of agony, you gave up the fight

you were like a little, innocent lamb  
as sweet as the summer breeze  
“it was taken too soon,” they said  
and the little girl vanished from life

so the little girl lived through me  
forgotten, memories trashed, vanished  
“it’s for the better,” they said  
as i lived my life on and never met you

and so the brick walls have collapsed  
and the river of memory floods in  
“it was (REDACTED),” they said  
but i laid in denial anyway

but you were there, in pain, but alive  
crying, grabbing, stuck in that moment  
“it’ll be better if you accept it,” they said  
and yet i still can’t believe in you

time changes everything, and heals all wounds  
even including the unhealable  
“it’s about time,” the little girl said  
and i relaxed and grinned

so this is a letter to the little girl who died  
you were strong, you stood all  
“i’m proud of you,” i said  
and held her tight in my arms

and to the little girl who came back  
her eyes kissed with teardrops  
“i feel your pain,” i said  
but i held her tightly anyway

the little girl that died a decade ago is no longer alone  
she lived through me for 10 years, and now forever  
“we can do this together,” we said  
and we held each other’s hand

i sit now in the spring grass  
alone, but content of my progress  
“i’m so proud of myself,” i said  
and the pain from a decade ago no longer exists


	16. the me that died at age 8 (2018)

the me that died was at age 8  
with a touch in the alleyways  
nothing but pain and cries  
and doing such a good job  
at repressing the memory you  
forgot it even existed until  
a decade later. 

when you listened to that song  
that you thought was sweet summer memories  
it all came rushing back  
falling onto the floor, clutching your chest  
like an innocent child who lost someone greatly  
feeling how you felt a decade ago. 

you still tried to deny it happening  
like an innocent child covering her ears  
when the memories pushed against you  
sharp as a knife, you bled  
and the wall in your mind shattered and  
the river of memory flooded in  
asking friends if it was what it was  
and weeping until you could only feel that same pain  
drowning in your own sea of grief  
from a decade ago. 

the you that lives does not live  
spirit had died a long time ago  
the you that you are wasn’t who you used to be  
and the you from then died a decade ago.


	17. only in spring (2018)

only in spring do you find the spring couple  
grinning at each other, laying in the  
grass kissed with dew, and they  
watch the pastel sky, no longer  
plagued by the wintertime clouds  
but blessed with a clear blue sky

and only in spring do you find them  
rushing to the stores, picking up last-minute  
easter candy and baskets, mentally yelling  
“why didn’t i do this beforehand?” as  
the wal-mart is nothing but  
a sea of last minute shoppers  
but they step out the doors and remember it’s all worth it  
when the embrace of spring breeze  
brushes by their skin

and only in spring do you find them  
opening up the windows, gazing out  
at the blooming tulips and dandelions  
and letting in the sweet scent of the earth  
and damp soil   
and letting out the smell of  
ham, pies, only from their  
easter dinner  
and candy wrappers from their cadbury eggs  
all over the table

and only in spring do you find them laying down  
once more in the grass, laying under a tree  
moving the blanket from their picnic aside  
resting in the comfortable silence with  
only a few crickets peeping and the calls  
of the goldfinches that they never realized  
they could ever miss  
and the bees flying by, looking for its  
next flower to pollinate 

and only in spring do you find them   
fixing up their garden from winter’s havoc  
watching their new grass bloom  
and no longer being afraid to get dirty  
as mud coats their boots  
and the tips of grass and the wetness of mud  
becomes the only thing they know  
but watch eagerly as each little flower pops up

and only in spring do you find them gazing out  
that window once more, admiring every  
little thing that they yearned for  
with the children playing frisbee across the street  
to the parents watering their flowers  
and to the soothing spring breeze blowing in  
and they remember this is what they needed  
all along


	18. i am (2018)

icy, frozen fingertips  
gently caressing my virgin back  
"aw, sweetheart, just give in,  
it won't hurt to give it a try!"  
you always told me how much  
you loved me, your heart warming mine  
but my heart was a pastel pink  
and yours was a warm black  
i had no clue what you were doing,  
and it tired and hurting me,  
using me when you went into "heat,"  
as you always called it.  
it scared me,  
my once clean back was scarred,  
with scratches from your cold fingers  
but i didn't care how it bled  
it made you happy.   
i was 13. 

that has become a distant memory,   
shoved in the back of my mind to be forgotten  
not wanting to be remembered  
i was 16.  
i felt the same icy fingertips on my back  
and each scar that healed was opened  
and blood poured from them one again  
i felt your chill as i did years ago,  
and your voice echoed in a different form,  
"babe, please fuck me,  
i'm so horny, i need you, i can't help it,  
if you don't, i'll be upset, i'll hurt myself."  
and i only watched as you cut opened your thighs  
all because of one word i had said  
"no".

today i curl up in bed  
feeling your fingertips on my back  
as i screech in pain  
cry out your name  
but you are no longer here.  
i am 18.


	19. do you remember me? (2018)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> misplaced, sorry - thought i made this in 2017

sometimes, in my darkest nights, you come in my mind  
and i wonder if i’m even a thought in your mind anymore  
or if i’m just another pawn with his use gone  
do you remember me?  
i wish i didn’t remember you

i think about the nights where we’d stay up  
and the days that we’d talk on  
but i remember most the words you’d say to me  
and each individual broken promise  
do you remember them?  
i wish i didn’t

and i lay back in bed, shuffle on  
and our song comes by  
i cry myself to sleep, wishing i never heard it  
do you remember that song?  
i wish i didn’t

i think about your fingertips on my back  
although you were never there  
and how easily thrown away i was  
compared to all the other girls you’ve fucked  
do you wish i was by your side still?  
i’m glad i’m not

so here is my hate letter to you  
fuck you, and fuck all the pain you’ve caused me  
and i hope when you finally become homeless  
like what you lied to me about  
and you sit in the corner asking for spare change  
you remember me and what a fucking slob you are  
and know you chose this path  
do you remember me?  
i hope you do.


	20. my name is (2017)

my name is (blank) and i do not think i am a person  
born into a world where all was cold  
to a mother that only wanted my body  
and to a father that wanted me dead

my name is (blank) and i’m not supposed to be alive  
when my mother was done with her fun she tell me  
“you were meant to be aborted.”  
words i have recognized since my birth

my name is (blank) and i am not innocent  
i was made into a woman in an alleyway  
my mother thought i was fun to play with  
no one believed me

my name is (blank) and sometimes i hear gunshots  
they echoed in the alleys followed by screams  
and the next day the news droned on  
“one shot dead in...”

my name is (blank) and i was afraid  
funny smells leaked through our walls  
my mother lectured me on the outside  
don't go outside after 4, don't leave the yard

my name is (blank) and i'm a dirty kike  
the children at school laughed at my hair  
they chanted, “dirty kike! hitler missed one!”  
i didn't understand

my name is (blank) and i hear voices in my head  
they're nicer than the ones that live outside  
one of them calls herself mom  
i think she's my real mother

my name is (blank) and i'm an only child  
my brother died long ago  
rejected from my family for being himself  
he never came home

my name is (blank) and i was born in the wrong body  
my mom always told me what a beautiful girl i am  
i cried in pain, each word a bullet  
piercing through my imperfect, dysphoric body

my name is (blank), but that isn't my name  
i heard my mother say the same name over  
and over, never ending  
she knows best

my name is (blank) and i'm good at repressing things  
memories drowned in sorrow, gone in my head  
but when they come back from their blockage  
i scream and sit up, breaking in a cold sweat

my name is (blank) and i don't understand emotions  
i cannot cry, for i have no tears  
i laugh at my blood and misfortune  
like some kind of psycho

my name is (blank) and i watched my world burn  
my childhood only exists in memories  
and my one true love died in flames  
i have nothing

my name is (blank) and i felt a gun to my head once  
and the knife to my chest  
and the painkillers in my mouth  
but i spit them out

my name is (blank) and i've been used like a tissue  
old men throwing me away when they're done  
calling it love  
but i loved them too

my name is (blank) and i can only speak in song  
nobody notices my poor english then  
they only notice my song  
that makes me happy. 

my name is (blank), but the sun still rises  
i told myself i'd be dead at 18  
and those years are creeping up  
and i don't know what to do

my name is (blank) and this is coming to an end  
i guess you could call me “okay”  
my eyes cry and my legs bleed  
but

my name is (blank) and i have hope  
and i hope that one day  
my words can inspire others  
and they don't suffer like me


	21. patchwork (2017)

life is similar to patchwork  
adding pieces of the fabric of life  
childhood memories, first lovers   
all becoming the quilt of your life  
trying to cut out the ugly patterns,  
failing,  
crying,  
trying to stab yourself with the scissors  
and fabric is scattered all over the floor  
your quilt is worn out, broken  
frayed string, uneven ends  
holes torn through,   
incomplete.   
but perhaps somewhere out there,  
someone’s quilt is as torn as yours  
and you two combine your patchwork   
to make something beautiful  
fixed  
and new  
making you wonder why you even cried  
at the damage from before


	22. doctor and patient (2017)

just one smile won’t hurt, maybe two

ǝnlq ǝq sʎɐʍlɐ ll’ᴉ ʇɐɥʍ ɹǝʇʇɐɯ ou ʇnq

drop the knife, set it down and rest

ʇsǝɥɔ ʎɯ uo ʞɔɐq pǝɔɐɹʇ ǝpɐlq ǝɥʇ puɐ

the memories are in the past, it’s fine to forget them now

uʍoɹɟ ɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ǝɯ sǝʌɐǝl ǝɹǝɥʇ uʍop spuɐɥ sᴉɥ ɟo ʎɹoɯǝɯ ǝɥʇ ʇnq

please get something to eat, it’s good for you

ǝnɹʇ ʇ’usᴉ sʎɐs ǝuoʎɹǝʌǝ ʇɐɥʇ ǝɯ ƃuᴉllǝʇ uᴉɐɹq ʎɯ pǝʌǝᴉlǝq ᴉ puɐ

the world isn’t all that bad, you know that

ʇɐɟ puɐ ʎlƃn ɯ’ᴉ ǝɯ sllǝʇ uᴉɐɹq ʎɯ uᴉ ǝɔᴉoʌ ǝɥʇ ʇnq

there’s someone out there that loves you, don’t you see?

¿ǝɯ ƃuᴉǝq sɐʍ ᴉ ǝsnɐɔǝq uoos ǝɯ ǝʌɐǝl ʎǝɥʇ ʇ’uoʍ puɐ

you’re perfect the way you are, please don’t change!


	23. sickly boy (2017)

once there was a sickly boy  
who dreamed of death more than life  
who was raised different than the rest  
who couldn't speak a word of english  
but yet he could sing his heart out 

he never had any true parents  
except the girl in his head  
was it imagination that made her?  
or was it the yearn for a true mother?  
she never left his side 

he had the universe at his fingertips  
exploring its every crevice  
trying to find his true purpose,  
the secrets of the world,  
the afterlife

he was a psychopath  
when he bled, he did not flinch  
when death occurred, he did not cry  
he laughed at the horror and unknown  
and embraced it like an old friend

he worshipped unknown goddesses  
two goddesses that were the opposite of him  
mysteries to everyone else,  
but family to him  
he stayed up late, staring up at the moon

no one ever wanted to be this boy,  
delusional, freakish  
because he is a monster  
apathetic, broken  
he is not a human


	24. puzzles (2017)

my words in my mind are filled with emotion  
chosen by memories, feelings, love  
carefully crafted into a sentence  
but yet, as they are transferred onto paper  
all the meaning is lost in translation  
leaving me alone in my thoughts, grabbing  
wondering why no one can ever understand me

my thoughts are a complex puzzle  
and it's like only one knows the answer  
i am the inventor of a powerful language  
and yet, no one understands  
i speak, but gibberish comes out  
everyone looks cluelessly  
and i stay silent once again

for once, i want to communicate my thoughts  
my story, my language, my culture  
but it's hard when they point and laugh  
and there's only one that understands   
why not give up?   
it's the easiest path  
but yet, the pen never falls

after all, it's hard to relate to a sickly boy  
a boy that daydreams more than focusing  
taking on the roles of the heroes in his dreams  
the boy who doesn't know who he even is  
leaving himself vulnerable yet again  
but that's okay,  
his dreams are here to save the day

my language stays a mystery once more  
the words garbled yet again  
perhaps more than one will understand one day,  
but maybe that day will never come  
but he will not speaking  
even when the world doesn't understand  
what exactly goes on in his head


	25. recipe (2017)

what makes me?  
2 cups glitter  
and 1 cup of stars  
mix with a pinch of paranoia  
and the feelings of self doubt  
stir with a fairy's tears  
and broken hearts  
and 1/2 cups of bittersweet memories  
bake in the oven until golden  
sprinkle wilted flowers  
and the darkness of night  
and frost with the feelings from your heart  
leave to cool  
and forget about it until time stops


	26. standards (2017)

be this, but you can't be that  
don't stress about your weight, but you're too fat  
you can feel emotion, but you're not allowed to cry  
for there is a world that you must satisfy  
dress how you want, but never like that  
what are you? some slutty cat?  
express yourself! don't be afraid to feel!  
but if you are gay or trans, those will be wounds that don't heal  
you can do this, you can do that  
but feeling too much makes you a stepping mat  
"oh, she was so beautiful! oh so brave!"  
but all of these standards led her to her grave


	27. evillious (2017)

once there was a little princess that stood high  
her looks were sweet, but her lips were cyanide  
she sat on her throne besides her immoral father  
knowing she would be a corrupt daughter  
she always grinned when her servant brought her treats  
and she gave him a look ever so sweet  
although the princess would never slack  
all she did was hid a knife behind her back  
today she stands besides the guillotine  
stepping in the blood of the traitors in between


	28. love. (2017)

the stars shine bright underneath us tonight  
and in my arms i hold you tight   
you gently put something in my hair; a flower  
and you ask if we can stay out here another hour  
i softly press a kiss upon your cheek  
and it is short, careful and meek  
the grass is the bed beneath our feet  
and we hold hands as we stare at the constellations because they're neat   
it's getting late, it's 12am, my dear  
so we should head back in, there's nothing to fear


	29. summer breeze (2017)

like a summer breeze,  
you came by quickly,  
not a single warning. 

you enveloped me in your arms  
warm and sweet  
keeping me cool when it got too hot.

you reminded me of all the perfect things in life  
with that summersweet smile of yours  
and made it feel like winter never returned.

your eyes shone brighter than stars  
like the clear summer nights  
where they all dazzled in your eyes.

your lips tasted like a cherry pie  
warm, delectable, sweet  
making me beg for more. 

your laugh was like a glass of lemonade  
perfect, just right, sugary  
that made me feel refreshed when i was sad. 

and even in my darkest moments  
i feel your summer breeze  
protecting me.


End file.
